In A Quandary

I’m not very good with words, and so I always get very nervous when a bright and intelligent customer-mistress starts asking me lots of sarcastic questions. I never quite know what to say and would much rather just be lickshining her shoes!

However, the laws of the Gynarchy require me to answer a customer-mistress’s questions respectfully and truthfully, utilising the humblest of humble slave-speak. And besides, my supervisor master-sir is standing next to me with his whip – another mighty incentive for me to respond diligently to the customer-mistress’s mocking questions:

‘Ha! Ha! How do you like your rusty ruff, slave? Is it comfortable around your neck, or does it chafe a bit?’

She is referring, of course, to the heavy, metal cangue which is affixed permanently around my kneeling neck.

‘ANSWER THE PRETTY MISTRESS THIS INSTANT, SLAVE, OR, SO HELP ME GOD, I’LL WHIP YOU RED RAW!’ shouts my supervisor-master down at me.

I gird my loins and try desperately to give the mistress the right answers to her questions:

‘Oh pray, pretty mistress, if it pleases you pretty customer-mistress madam, this slave begs to inform the mistress that he does indeed like his rusty, metal ruff, mistress, though not that much, if you would be so kind and understanding most esteemed and erudite customer-mistress madam? Truly the ruff facilitates this slave in bowing the neck and concentrating on his customers’ footwear, if it is so pleasing to you mistress, but the ruff does indeed chafe, mistress, and is not that comfortable, if you would be so kind and understanding to a lowly, public shoelick madam? Please don't have me whipped, madam!’

She laughs at me:

‘Ha! Ha! I thought as much! But I don’t give a damn, slave! It’s not MY neck feeling the strain! Ha! Ha! Now get on with lickshining my shoes!’

My supervisor-master interjects once again in his shouty voice:

‘THANK THE YOUNG WOMAN FOR ENQUIRING AS TO YOUR WELLBEING, FILTHY SLAVE, AND THEN DO AS SHE SAYS AND LICKSHINE HER SHOES!’

I wholeheartedly agree with the master-sir that it is only polite for a slave to first thank a customer-mistress for her arrogant questions, even though she is keen for him to begin the licking of her shoes. And besides, it is the master-sir who is holding the whip!

So I duly obey my master:

‘Oh pray, mistress madam, thank you kindly for your kind questions directed at the wellbeing of this unworthy slave, madam.’

Now it’s the customer-mistress’s turn to shout angrily down at me:

‘SHUT THE F**K UP, DIRTY SLAVE, AND GET ON WITH LICKSHINING MY SHOES LIKE I TOLD YOU TO, YEAH?’

I am tempted, but not so foolish, as to reply ‘Yes, mistress. At once mistress!’, for I know it is now most definitely time for me to put my tongue to the use for which nature intended – that of lickshining haughty, young women’s cheap, dirty shoes. And so, somewhat belatedly, I put maleslave tongue to feminine shoeleather.


What would you have done in my position? Thank the mistress verbally for asking her sarcastic questions, as instructed by your supervisor-master holding the whip (though at the risk of angering the customer-mistress, as I did)? Or would you have gotten straight down to lickshining her shoes as soon as she ordered you to do so – at the risk of offending your mighty master-sir with the whip? It’s a quandary, isn’t it?














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